The Great Divide
by Nymphadora Black
Summary: AD/MM, SS/HG. Harry Potter lives in a chaotic world. But now, he, his friends, and Professors have to make sure nothing happens to him; or it'll be the last mistake they make.
1. Default Chapter

A/N- Well, here's my first fic, and to note, the story switches from character to character by the means of this *^*^*^*^*^*. So, now that that's said, read! (And don't forget to hit the purple button at the bottom of the page that lets me know what you think!)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I only own the plot; the rest belongs to the gifted J.K. Rowling, including Harry and Co., Albus and Minerva, and the rest of the wonderful characters she's dreamed up and I've had the pleasure of tinkering with.

            The feeble sunlight shone through an open window of four, Privet Drive, stopping short of the raven haired, bespectacled and green eyed boy, who lay, unusually still, on the un-made bed. He rolled over and produced a rolled up newspaper, yellowing in the corners, from underneath the mattress and stared at the article encompassing what was not taken up by the picture of a thin and rough looking man with long black hair of the front page.

          ESCAPE ARTIST SIRIUS BLACK CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES AFTER DEATH

            Sirius Black, who, three years ago, escaped from Azkaban, had been cleared of all charges placed on him after he appeared to have murdered thirteen people on a muggle street.

            Black, however, was not present to hear the final verdict from the Minister for Magic.

            In a fierce battle with his alleged cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, Black was murdered by an unknown and unidentified curse.

"We are unaware of the so-called curse used on Black, but we will be launching a thorough investigation into this incident," Cornelius Fudge said on Monday, in an impromptu press conference.

            Details into the investigation are unavailable at this time.

            Harry Potter scowled at the ridiculous scarcity of proper details in the article. It _was true that Sirius was murdered by Bellatrix-Harry had been there when she had done it- but they had left out the fact that there were a number of Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, bent on retrieving what Lucius Malfoy had called the "prophecy"; they had also forgotten that Professor Albus Dumbledore-the most powerful wizard in the world, and the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry-had an actual duel with Voldemort-the most feared Dark wizard for a century, and murderer of Harry's parents-and won._

            He had read the article so many times Harry feared it may be burned into the inside of his skull; and each time he read it he relived the nightmare that he had experienced with members of the Order of the Phoenix. The way he had tried to fight off the Death Eaters; Dumbledore's arrival; the look on Sirius's face as Bellatrix cast the final spell over him, ridding him of the pain of being locked up, all alone, at a house he loathed entirely, but leaving Harry with the agonizing memory that Sirius had died trying to save him.

            Hot tears threatened, as they usually did these days, to fall from his brilliantly green eyes; eyes he had inherited from his mother. Harry wiped them on sleeve and threw the newspaper down, rather harder than he intended, but he enjoyed the sound of the paper hitting his Potions textbook with a resounding _slap. _

            A sharp _tap tap brought Harry from his furious pleasure of facing down the newspaper to reality. He stood, crossing over to the window and throwing it open, allowing a large barn owl to swoop in, bringing with it the tiniest of breezes before a wave of humidity slapped him in the face. He closed the window and watched the owl hoot a greeting to Hedwig, his snowy owl, before sticking out its leg. Harry untied the letter, staring at the curly purple ink._

            Why was Dumbledore writing to him?

*^*^*^*^*^*  

            Minerva McGonagall made her way into the spacious kitchen of a large, lived-in house, leaning heavily on her waist height walking stick, souvenir of the four stunners she had endured to her chest only a month before. She tightened the tartan robe around her before setting to work, lighting the stove with a flick of her wand, cracking the eggs in a frying pan with another poke. Absorbing herself wholly into the task at hand, she did not notice her husband, standing tall in the doorway, midnight blue robe untied, long white hair and beard as smooth and soft as always, and blue eyes twinkling as he surveyed his wife.

"Minerva, dear, you're not supposed to be on your feet this early," Albus said, watching as she kept on opening drawers.

"And why not?" she challenged, looking desperately for the spatula. "Have you seen the spatula, by the way?"

"To you left," Albus replied, moving in to the room as she produced the spatula in question from the only drawer she hadn't looked in.

"Thanks," Minerva replied, flipping the sizzling eggs over.

"Come, Minerva, you need to rest before we leave," he said softly.

            She paid his last comment no attention as she began to fry bacon, moving the strips she had conjured around in their pan.

"Please?" 

"Now, really, Albus, I'm _fine,_" Minerva replied stubbornly, moving over to the sink to wash the now empty pan.

"You heard what Poppy said," Albus whispered, coming form behind and wrapping his arms around her waist, "You're supposed to stay in bed until at least nine."

            Minerva felt her resolution melt slightly as Albus rested a cheek on her shoulder. How did this man manage to persuade her so easily? But she knew the answer; it was because he cared about her, and he always had a certain charm about him that made her weaken in the knees; even in her old age.

"You are _not _old," Albus said.

"You stop doing that," she said, smiling. They had been able, for as long as she could remember, to know what the other was thinking without the use of occlumency. She supposed that when you knew someone for so long, you simply didn't have to use words to get across what you wished to say, you just simply thought it and they knew. 

"Come on," he said, and promptly swept Minerva up into his arms.

"Albus!" she laughed, even as he carried her out into the hallway and into their bedroom.

"Yes, darling?" he replied, in an innocent tone, depositing her ever so gently on the bed, "I'm going to finish up with breakfast, and you're going to stay here and do absolutely _nothing,_" he smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Alright," she sighed, and sank back in to the feathery softness of the pillows.

*^*^*^*^*^*

            Dear Mr. Potter,

                        I would, first of all, like to thank you for opening this, as I can understand your reluctance to receive anything with my name on it.

                        In the recent death of Sirius, The Order has decided to hold a funeral for him at Grimmauld Place. He had expressed his wishes, long ago, to be buried here, should he ever die (which, I am sure, would've been a great shock to him). I believe he wanted to "keep an eye on the place," as he put it.

                        I, along with the Order, would greatly appreciate your presence at this event. If you wish to attend, send an owl to Molly Weasley, and the Guard will come and pick you up at noon tomorrow. If no, which we will understand, the Guard will come and pick you up on August the first.

                        Also, Professor McGonagall informs me that although you did not receive and "O" on your OWL for Potions, Professor Snape will allow you to take his Potions class this year.

            Congratulations on your marks,

            Albus Dumbledore

            Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

            Harry stared at the letter. He would, of course, go, and was rather shocked that McGonagall had done enough arm-twisting to get Snape to allow Harry in his Potions class. But the again, he seemed to remember McGonagall swearing she'd make and Auror out of him if it was the last thing she did. This aside, he pulled out a fresh piece of parchment from underneath the Herbology essay on Triple Tongued  Horse Radish, assigned by Professor Sprout, and wrote,

            Dear Mrs. Weasley,

                        I've just received an owl from Professor Dumbledore about my attendance to Sirius's funeral. Of course I'll come, I appreciate the invite (plus, who else wouldn't want to hang around with you lot for the summer?).

                        Harry

            Harry strode over to Hedwig's cage and opened it, allowing her to fly around the room once or twice before he called her down.

"Alright, come down, I need you to deliver this to Mrs. Weasley," he said, attaching the letter to her leg. Harry opened the window. 

            She hooted softly and took off, soaring out and into the rising sun.


	2. A Revalation and An Arrival

MK: My first reviewer! Thanks so much!

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

"Minerva, it's not that we have anything against the Order-"

"We're part of it, for heaven's sake-"

"Even if it's for a week or so-"

"But don't you think, that is, in your _condition, that you should slow it down a bit?"_

            Minerva sighed at the storm of comments that met her ears the minute Rolanda Hooch, Irma Pince, Poppy Pomfrey, and Ellen Sprout entered the kitchen. It seemed they thought she was some sort of glass figurine! _Well, that just won't work this time, she thought, and turned to face the four._

"Look, first of all, I realize you have your concerns. But I think I am allowed to leave the house once this summer! Besides, it's not like I'm going alone. Albus is going with me; plus, the Weasley's and Miss Granger will be there. Now stop _badgering _me," she said, averting her eyes from their rather put out faces, and taking a sip of her tea.

"You not got her convinced yet?" Albus asked, entering the kitchen with his arms full of shopping bags.

"Nah, nothing doing," Ellen sighed, standing to help relieve Albus of his load.

"That's my girl," Albus said, kissing Minerva briefly before setting to the task of putting away the groceries, "Always the stubborn one."

"I'll say," Rolanda said, with a sly grin on her face, "except when it came to you."

"God, she was head-over-heels!" Irma laughed at the memory of Minerva, sitting in her flat in Hogsmeade, grinning like an idiot after a day with Albus all those years ago.

"Well, how long have you lot been married then?" Poppy asked, as Albus put away a loaf of bread.

"Forty years," Albus and Minerva replied in unison. Ellen laughed.

"Lord, I don't think I could stand you for that long," she said, looking pointedly at Albus.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could stand you for that long either."

"HEY!"

*^*^*^*^*^*

            Harry closed the lid to his trunk and turned, surveying his room to check he hadn't left anything behind. He was quite sure he hadn't, but this was the only way he could put off the moment he had to tell Uncle Vernon that a whack of witches and wizards were due to arrive at Privet Drive in ten minutes; Harry wasn't _too concerned, Uncle Vernon had received a good enough threat from Mad-Eye Moody to keep him as far away from Harry as he could get._

            Sighing in defeat, Harry checked his reflection one last time in the wardrobe mirror; _stop stalling, he thought, and went downstairs and into the living room._

            All three Dursleys sat, the window open, in hopes of catching a non-existent breeze in the heat wave Little Whinging was in the middle of.

"Um, Uncle Vernon?"

            Vernon grunted in response. Harry continued,

"Um, well, you see, my er- godfather died a few weeks ago-"

"That means _what _to me?" Vernon said, rather nastily, over the top of his newspaper.

            Before Harry could answer, Aunt Petunia cut in.

"Not- oh _what_ was his name- Sirius Black, was it?" she asked quietly, determined not to look at her shocked husband and son.

"Uh, yeah actually," Harry replied, staring at her.

"Pity. He was quite funny," she whispered.

"And _how _would you know that?!" Vernon sputtered, his face turning, as it so often did these days, a nasty shade of purple.

"He was at her wedding," Aunt Petunia replied. She stood and exited the room. Uncle Vernon and Harry stared after her before a terrified yelp from Dudley alerted them.

"Wotcher, Harry!"

            Harry tuned, grinning, to face the smaller version of the Guard; which now consisted of Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, Emmeline Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks.

"And _who _are these-these- _people?_" Uncle Vernon demanded, his face reddening as he recognized Moody. Harry seriously doubted he could recognize Tonks-as she so preferred to be called- for she was a Metamorphmagus, and could change her appearance at will; today her hair was long, and was colored red, blue, pink, and green to match her robes.

"Alastor Moody," Moody said, extending a gnarled hand toward Uncle Vernon. With much hesitation, he took it. "This here's Remus Lupin, Emmeline Vance, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Nymphadora Tonks."

"_How many times, Mad-Eye?! Call-me-Tonks!_" Tonks said, reminding Harry of her temper at being called by her first name the last time Moody had done introductions.

"Nymphadora," Emmeline Vance had spoken. She had graying hair that still held a strong presence of the red it had once been, and a rather stern voice. Tonks scowled. "Why don't you take Mr. Potter upstairs and gather his things?"

            Tonks said nothing, but lead Harry all the way back up to his bedroom without so much as muttering a word, but Harry noticed her oddly colored hair had now become and angry shade of red.

"I _hate _it when she calls me that. She bloody well knows it bugs the hell out of me," she fumed, shrinking Harry's trunk, "At least her sister's nicer than that, and that's what counts."

"Who's her sister?" Harry asked, picking up Hedwig's cage and starting out after Tonks.

"Minerva McGonagall," Tonks said, her hair returning to its multi-colored mop.

"Not-not- _Professor_ McGonagall?!" Harry asked, stopping dead.

"Oh, come on, Harry! Surely you didn't think the Professors have no lives away from teaching?"

            Harry didn't say anything for a moment, but started walking again, this time slower, desperate for more information.

"Well, no, but- how come they didn't keep their maiden names?" Harry asked, causing Tonks to slow down.

"Because," she said, dropping her voice as they neared the sitting room, "Emmeline's a widow, married Charlie Vance when she was twenty. He died in the field."

"And what about Professor McGonagall?"

"She's still married," Tonks said simply, speeding up.

"To who?" Harry asked, just about to turn into the room.

"Secret. If I told you," she looked at him, blue eyes sparkling, "I'd have to kill you. I certainly don't want to have to do that!"

            Tonks entered the tension filled room, Harry on her heels, wanting more than anything to tell Ron and Hermione what he'd found out.

*^*^*^*^*^*

            Hermione Granger lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling of the room she and Ginny Weasley shared at Grimmauld Place. She wasn't thinking about particularly anything, "But you never do anyway," Ginny had said, laughing. Well, she usually thought about a lot of things, thank you very much, and she didn't need a fifteen year-old girl telling her she was no good.

            _Honestly! That's all you ever think about these days! You are a good student, you have top marks! You're going to go places! The ever annoying voice in her head said, sounding suspiciously like her Transfiguration instructor._

            The door bell rang, and Hermione cringed as Mrs. Black's shrieking voice filled the house, shaking dust from the tightest of nooks.

"FILTHY, CRINGING BITS OF DIRT, I WON'T HAVE IT IN _MY HOUSE-!"       _

                        Hermione sat up and made her way downstairs. Surely Harry couldn't be here yet? And even if he was, they would've flooed their way back, and therefore had no use for the front door.

"THANK GOD HE'S DEAD,NOW THEY'LL ALL LEAVE-"

            As it turned out, it was not Harry and the Guard at the front door, but Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore. Ginny, who had opened the door, called,

"Professor! Headmaster! Come in, come in," she said, pulling the door wide and allowing them to enter.

            They both, Hermione noticed, were dressed in muggle attire. Professor McGonagall was dressed in a pale blue skirt and crème blouse, leaning on her walking stick, while Professor Dumbledore was clothed in khaki pants and a white, billowy shirt, of which he had rolled the sleeves up on.

"Albus! Minerva! Right on time!"

"THIS IS RIDICULOUS, NOW _THEY'RE _HERE-!"  

"Oh, shut up, you."       

            Molly Weasley came up from the hallway, whacking Mrs. Black's screaming portrait with her wand; it stopped shouting and now glared, having been cut off in mid sentence.

"Molly, dear, thanks so much for having us," Professor McGonagall replied, giving Mrs. Weasley a quick hug.

"Oh, not at all. Come on, your room's up here," she said, after Albus gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek, "Ginny Hermione, take the luggage, will you?"

            Hermione and Ginny took the suitcases from the Professors and trooped upstairs after the three quietly talking adults.

"What do you reckon they're doing here?" Ginny whispered, watching as Mrs. Weasley led them to a room at the end of the hall.

"Dunno," Hermione whispered back, "But they're part of the Order, aren't they? I suppose it's got to do with that."

            Mrs. Weasley told the Ginny and Hermione to put the luggage on a large canopy bed that resided in the last room of the hallway. They did so, shooting each other curious looks as they left the room.

"Sharing a room, are they?" Ginny said, with a sly smile as she and Hermione flung themselves onto a hammock on the back porch.

            The back yard of Grimmauld Place was beautiful. The lawn was a luscious green; the flower beds full of color; there was even an in-ground pool, but no one had swum in it yet, it was a rather nasty shade of green  and they were sure it contained a number of Grindylows.

"Well, I expect we'll have to do some snooping," Hermione grinned.

"Hermione!" Ginny said, sitting up, with a fake look of shock, "I would have expected you'd leave well enough alone!"

            _CRACK. Fred and George landed right on top of Hermione and Ginny, looking around, apparently lost at the location of all the yells of protest coming from underneath them._

"Fred, I think we've lost Hermione and Ginny!" George said, a look of mock puzzlement on his face.

"Indeed, I think we have!" Fred replied, looking around.

"OY! You're killing my legs!" Ginny shouted, never the less laughing as she shoved the twins off the hammock.

"Oh! When did you two get here?" Fred asked. 

            Ginny threw one of the fluffy pillows that sat on the cushy bench straight at his laughing face. It stopped before it got anywhere near him and turned around, smacking Ginny instead.

"OY!" she jumped up and ran after the laughing twins.

            Hermione grinned and laid back down.


End file.
